


we don't need no water let the auntfucker burn

by psychomachia



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dany Comes Back From The Dead As A Fire Goddess, Emotional Support Dragon, Gen, Melisandre Would Have Appreciated This, burning shit down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-06 11:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20290888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychomachia/pseuds/psychomachia
Summary: We're not all you, Jon. Not everyone likes getting stabbed in the heart.





	we don't need no water let the auntfucker burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Wavesinger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wavesinger/gifts).

_Mother?_

_Mother?_

_You're awake you're awake you're awake!_

Dany's eyes bolt open and oh, look, her dragon's carrying her over the ocean, which is completely expected and ordinary, but the other two things aren't.

One, she just got stabbed in the chest by her nephew/lover, which what the hell? Pour your heart out and say, stand by my side and we can rule together, and you fucking stab me? I know you came back from it, but there was no fucking guarantee I would, you asshole. Which brings her to:

Two, she can feel power raging through her veins, the power of love and vengeance and a whole lot of fire. It's too bad Melisandre isn't around because she'd tell her that indeed, prophecies can be tricky things. A woman can be the Prince that Was Promised.

And a dead queen can be the Lord of Light.

It is strange, but it feels right – like she has always been and always will be the flame in the darkness, the fire that burns the ice to the ground. No wonder she and Jon could never be. He is truly a child of the North and he never would have felt right anywhere else.

_Should we come back and set him on fire, Mother_? Drogon asks, and oh! She can hear him in her head! Daenerys wonders if she could have heard the others and--

No. She can't deal with that right now.

_I mean, he's right there near that big spiky thing. I set that on fire because I was really angry, I guess, and also it looked great when I did it, like I meant it out of some symbolism about tyranny and that no one can be corrupted by power anymore. Maybe we should set everything else on fire, too. Really make it symbolic. _

Tempting, she thinks, but no. Jon betrayed her and killed her and yes, she probably should come back and make an example out of him, but he is her nephew and she still loves him and he is a big beautiful idiot who wouldn't have thought of this on his own. Death has given her clarity and she can now look back and think, oh, he never did like ruling. Perhaps, she should send a prophecy or a very clear dream to that Stark boy to let him know, hey, why don't you just let your brother go back home and live out in the wilderness. It's where he's happiest. 

Daenerys can guess who told Jon he had to do it, and she probably should finish off the last of the Lannisters as well. Technically, she still has a great army at her command, a bunch of terrified lords, and not much resistance except for a few straggling soldiers and some very ungrateful people in the North, but well, does she really want to deal with having to deal with all of this mundane bureaucracy? One thing she and Jon had in common was their mutual hatred for paperwork, day to day governance, and not being able to just go out and kill your problem. 

Fire solves so many problems, she thinks fondly. 

No, she had Tyrion for dealing with that kind of petty bullshit and he wasn't even terribly good at it. But she is a god now. She has moved past petty grudges and lesser plans. Breaking the wheel sounds so small to her now that she can think on a grander scale. 

The world doesn't just need a new ruler.

It needs a new god.

She opens her eyes. The flame burns within them. 

_We're going to Asshai_, she tells Drogon. _But we're not going to fight them. We're not going to break them. We're going to teach them. We're going to guide them. We're going to show them true power_.

Her hand stretches out, lets the fire rise from her blood, dance over her skin. Drogon almost purrs at it, a soft recognizing rumble that sees the beauty of it all. Daenerys shapes it around into a glorious ball of shifting orange and red and gold, and flicks it towards a ship. It might be an enemy.

It might not be.

Either way, it burns the same. A prayer rising to her, the flames and smoke reaching towards the sky and she breathes it in, tastes the ash and let's the heat warm her. She will never allow herself to feel winter again.

_Mother_? Drogon says. His voice is its own invocation, calling for her command.

_We won't just burn the world. We'll burn the gods themselves_.


End file.
